“You will get no argument from me on that. What else do you remember?”
“My mother was redheaded and beautiful.”
“No surprise there.”
I blush with the compliment. “Thank you, Kayden.”
He drags a finger down my cheek. “Just speaking the truth, beautiful. Anything else?”
“I was close to her, and I think she died of cancer.” I shake my head. “I said that so matter-of-factly, but it didn’t feel that way when I remembered it. You know, Giada lost her mother to cancer too.”
“That doesn’t make you like her.”
“She’s alone. She has no one.”
“She has her brother and Marabella.”
“Not you?”
“I look out for her, and she knows it even if she doesn’t like it.” He gives me a heavy-lidded stare, his hands flattening on my bare legs beneath his shirt. “You aren’t alone. You have me now. You know that, right?” A firestorm of emotions attacks me, jumping around in my belly, and I cut my gaze. His finger slides under my chin and he gently brings my eyes back to his. “You have me.”
“For now.”
“Not for now. You don’t know that yet, but you will.” He reaches for the razor. “This is what you call trust.”
I close my hand around the razor, heat sliding up my arm and over my chest as our fingers touch. “Trust,” I whisper.
“Yes. Trust.”
We stare at each other and the air shifts and almost burns, the connection between us expanding, deepening, and he is safe and right in ways that matter more than ever after my flashback this morning. “Last night …”
The blue in his eyes darkens. “What about last night, Ella?”
“I just …” I wet my lips.
“We can go slow.”
“That’s not the point. I just wanted you to know that I … slept pretty good with you.”
He gives me a curious look, those sexy lips curving into a smile. “I slept pretty good with you too. Now. Shave me, woman.”
I laugh and am about to go to work, but I’m not ready to let go of his grumpiness from minutes before. “You know—”
“Don’t bring up Giada again.”
I pause mid-swipe. “How did you know I was going to talk about her?”
“Because I’m figuring out quickly that you don’t give up easily.”
“You can be a big brother to her.”
“See what I mean?”
“I’m serious, Kayden.”
“She has Adriel.”
“Who she resents.”
“She resents me.”
“Please—”
“No.”
I glower openly. “We’re back to ‘no’?”
“We never left it.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“Yes. I am.”
I set down the razor I haven’t even used and scoot off the counter. “You need to shave yourself.”
“Because of Giada?”
“Because if I stay this is going to become our second fight,” I say, inching away from him.
“Second?”
I pause at the doorway. “The bar last night was number one. If I stay right now, we’ll be two for two, so I’m not staying right now. I’m going to shower. Alone.” I accent that statement by leaving, making a beeline for the door and exiting into the hallway, where cold stone meets my bare feet. I pass the stairwell and realize that Marabella could be here, and I start running. I enter my room and shut the door. I wait, half expecting Kayden to follow, but half not, his desire to avoid a Giada conversation powerfully evident.
Inhaling, I’m trying to figure out what sore spot she hits in him, and failing. After flipping on the fireplace switch I cross to the bathroom, undress, and turn on the shower, taking my new products with me when I enter. I step under the warm stream of water and quickly wash my hair and drench it in conditioner, returning to my prior dilemma. What is it with Kayden and Giada? And why do I feel so weird with Adriel? Actually, I felt kind of weird with Giada when we were here yesterday, so maybe being stalked by cops and gangsters has me feeling paranoid.
I’m deep in thought when the shower door opens and I turn to find a very naked, very sexy, clean-shaven Kayden stepping inside. “I said alone.”
He ignores my reprimand, advancing on me and wrapping me in his arms. “I’m not the influence I want her to have.”
“You are the exact influence she needs.”
“No. I’m not, and I have often regretted bringing her here.”
“You brought her here to protect her.”
“And that brought her into the fold of The Underground. I say it’s time for her to start a new life somewhere far away, like the States. But Adriel won’t send her away. He feels he can’t protect her from a distance.”
“Like you do me.”
“Yes. It’s a damned-if-we-do, damned-if-we-don’t situation you’re in, Ella. It’s not easy to get out.”
“I don’t want out.”
“Neither does Giada, and yet she now hates me, Adriel, and everyone in her life. There’s no win to that.”
“She hates The Underground.”
“She’s just plain angry.”
“If she could deal with her pain, maybe she wouldn’t be angry. Don’t make yourself someone for her to hate. Make yourself someone she can relate to.”
“What’s right for me is not right for her.”
“Let her decide what’s right for her, but give her the emotional tools to do it.”
“I’m pretty sure her emotional tools are exhausted.”
“I’m not giving up on her and I’m not letting you, either.”
His hands slide down my conditioner-slicked hair and he tilts my head back. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“That’s not true. I wouldn’t have gone to the tower if I’d known you didn’t want me there.”
“I believe you.” He kisses me. “Let’s finish this shower and go eat. Someone worked up my appetite.”
I laugh and we shower, really shower, together, and once we’re done he exits first, and we both dry off and bundle up in towels—well, I do. His is slung low and sexy at his hips as he disappears inside my closet.
“I don’t think anything in there will fit,” I call out.
He reappears with the clothes I’d had hanging up draped over one arm, and bags in the other. “That’s why we’re going to my room.”
“Now? We have no clothes on.”
“We’ll fix that when we get there. Grab some stuff.” He takes off walking.
“Who doesn’t take no for an answer?” I shout after him, gathering up bags and tossing toiletries in them before dashing for the hallway to find Kayden heading back in my direction to help me, his towel barely hanging on.
I laugh and hurry forward. “You’re about to lose your—”
Marabella appears at the top of the steps and I cringe, cheeks heating and all words lost. She starts laughing, and I hurry past her to call out, “I can’t explain this, so I’m not going to try.”
Her giggles follow me, and Kayden grabs my bags, barely containing a smile, far too amused by this turn of events. “I’m making pancakes, you two,” Marabella calls out, and Kayden outright laughs, disappearing inside the room.
I follow him and he heads to the bathroom, where I enter as he disappears in the closet. I charge after him. “She’s making pancakes. She told me while I was in a towel running after you.”
“I heard,” he says. “And let me tell you. She makes a hell of a pancake.”
“I’m mortified.”
He runs his thumb over my cheek. “I’ll talk to her about calling before she enters.”
“We could just not run around in towels.”
“What fun would that be?” he asks, emphasizing that statement by tugging mine away.
I yelp and find myself lying on top of some sort of wide leather stool, with Kayden leaning over me. “What are you doing?”
“I haven’t been inside you for far too long.”
“That’s because we never have a condom.”
“We do this time.” He reaches down and opens a drawer, producing one packaged condom. “I bought a box yesterday, but we really need to get you to a doctor for birth control.”
“Not Nathan. He’s your friend. That would just be weird.”
“Agreed. We’ll ask him who to go to.” He leans in to kiss me.
I cover his mouth and grab the condom. “We can’t do this now. We’re expected for pancakes. If we don’t show up she’ll think—”
“That I’m inside you, enjoying the hell out of myself.”
My eyes go wide. “Kayden!”
He laughs and presses his cheek to mine, whispering something oh so sexy and Italian in my ear.
My lips curve with what I am certain fits his definition of dirty. “What did you say?”
He nips my ear. “Learn Italian and you’ll know.”
“That’s not fair.”
He inches back, those blue eyes gleaming with wicked heat. “I never claimed to be fair.”
“Just dirty,” I tease.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Let me show you how it tastes.”
I laugh and he kisses me, his tongue licking seductively against mine, and it’s official. I forget all about pancakes.
An hour later, it is a surreal feeling to be lost and yet found in Kayden’s world, having claimed one of the two sinks in his bathroom—our bathroom, as he’s called it quite freely—where I’ve arranged various toiletries for my use. I blow-dry my hair while Kayden lets his dry on its own and dresses in faded jeans and a black tee. He looks absolutely yummy when he exits into the bedroom to answer a call. I dig around in my bags and choose a pair of comfy black leggings that I pair with a long-sleeved, light blue sweater, and I slip on a pair of UGG boots for warmth, since we aren’t going out today.
I head into the bedroom, and, finding the security door open, continue in that direction to find Kayden sitting at the desk and instant messaging with someone. “Hi,” I say.
“Ciao, beautiful,” he says, turning to me. “Did you take your medicine?”
“I did,” I say, charmed that he’s running The Underground and still manages to be concerned about me. “Thank you for reminding me, though.”
His eyes gleam with wicked heat. “It’s self-serving, sweetheart. I have plans for you when you’ve fully recovered.” He grabs my hips and drags me to him. “When you trust me.”
“I do trust you, Kayden. I’ve told you that.”
“There’s a whole lot more to trust than words.”
I curl my fingers around his jaw. “You’ll teach me, right?”
His eyes light with approval. “Yes, I’ll teach you, but I’m starting to think I have some things to learn from you, too.” He cups my hand and kisses it. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
“Isn’t it close to lunch?”
He glances at his watch, and damn it, it stirs that odd, familiar feeling I don’t understand. “Eleven thirty,” he informs me. “We’ll call it brunch. Give me a second.” He releases me and I lean on the desk while he returns his attention to his keyboard, typing in a reply to whomever he’s chatting with, and stands. “Done. Now we eat.”
“Any news on Enzo?”
“Nothing yet, but that was one of my men in Milan, where Enzo was last known to be. He’s digging around.”
“How many Hunters do you have reporting to you?”
“Fifty across Rome and France.”
“I thought you only ran Rome.”
“I recently took over France as well.”
“Please tell me it’s not because the prior Hawk, or whatever you call the leaders, is dead.”
“We do call them Hawks, and no. He’s not dead. He moved to another country, like my father did when Kevin took over Rome years before I was born.”
“Has any Hawk from any country died?”
“Sweetheart.” He wraps me in his arms. “Don’t do this.”
“I can’t start needing you and then you go and die on me.”
“The feeling is mutual. Neither of us is going anywhere but to the kitchen to get pancakes. Okay?”
“I’d make you promise, but I know it’s not a promise you can keep.”
He strokes the hair from my face and tilts my head back. “I promise,” he says, his words absolute steel, as if his sheer will can make it so when we both know that isn’t true. “And I don’t make a promise I don’t intend to keep.”
His computer buzzes with a different sound than before and he gives me a quick kiss. “We’re going to be okay,” he assures me, sitting back down at the desk to check his screen. I step closer, and the very fact that we fear for his Hunter’s life tells me any version of “okay” with Kayden is still dangerous, and yet he’s somehow, illogically, safe. I don’t know what to do with that piece of information.
“News?” I ask, as he keys in a message and stands once more.
“Unfortunately, no. It’s just someone wanting to talk to me about a job. They can wait.”
“A Hunter or a client?”
“A client.” He picks up a large notebook from the desk. “This contains pictures of every person we know who works for Niccolo.”
“Why do you have that?”
“Money is a common denominator between Hunters and mobsters, and I try to steer our paths in different directions. That requires knowledge and effort.”
And there it is. The answer I realize I’d still desperately wanted. Or at least part of it. “Have you met Niccolo?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” When I would ask more, he changes the subject. “I figured you can look over the photos while we eat, and then we can try and forget all of this for the rest of the day.”
I draw in a heavy breath and exhale on an admission: “I really hate the idea of those photos when I should be embracing them for the answer they could hold.”
He caresses a lock of hair behind my ear. “We can wait until morning, if you prefer.”
The touch is tender, and I wonder what it says about me that the combination of the gentleness in this man and the dirty, dark danger that is also him is so very alluring. But what isn’t alluring is running, hiding, and dying. I take the notebook from him.
“I want to get this over with,” I say, unsure of why I am so certain this book holds a secret I’m not ready to reveal.
nineteen
Kayden and I leave his room to head to breakfast, and the memory of me running down the hall in a towel manages to take precedence over the photos in my hand. “Marabella is going to embarrass me, isn’t she?” I ask as we reach the entryway to the living area.
“Oh yeah,” he confirms, amusement in his voice, his lips quirking in a near smile.
We cross to the kitchen and I glower fiercely at him. “You think it’s funny.”
He grins. “Guilty as charged.”
“It’s not funny,” I chide. “It’s embarrassing. I’m not hungry anymore.”
I try to turn away but he snags my waist, kisses my temple, and before I can steel myself for the impact, walks me in front of him and through the kitchen entry. “Ciao, you two,” Marabella greets us from behind the island, her ear-to-ear grin instant. “Have you worked up an appetite?”
I groan and cover my face and Kayden chuckles, sounding way too sexy for how infuriating his amusement is becoming. It’s made worse as he says, “Why yes, we have. In fact, make my pancakes a double stack, please.”
I sink into a chair at the table and set down the notebook, dragging my journal and the file I’d left behind last night to join it. “Can you put booze in my coffee, please?” I plead, while Kayden sits down next to me and taps the notebook, obviously eager for me to take a look. I grimace and add, “Make that a double shot, not stack, for me.”
Marabella giggles like a schoolgirl and delivers two cappuccinos to the table, a cute apron decorated with patches of strawberri
es covering her knee-length dress. “No booze for you,” she tells me. “Kayden doesn’t keep any in the castle.”
She hurries away and I ignore the notebook to pick up my cup. “You’re more of a control freak than I realized.”
“I’m hopeful that comment comes with a good memory of last night.”
My cheeks heat with the replay of his words in that shower. I will lick you. Bite you. Pinch you. Spank you.
He leans closer. “What are you thinking, Ella?”
“I was just thinking—”
“Right now. What are you thinking right now?”
I swallow hard. “I plead the Fifth.”
His lips quirk and he leans back in his chair. “That’s no fun.”
He’s playful and funny, and enjoys teasing me way too much, but I like this part of him too much to mind. “You don’t drink because it creates a lack of control you don’t like.”
He lifts the cup, his eyes lighting with wicked heat. “Control is much more alluring than the other options. Don’t you think?”
“Hmmm. I don’t think I’d know, but maybe I’ll give it a go.”
“You can try.”
I set my cup down, the delicious scent of pancakes cooking filling the air. “I will.”
“Looking forward to that battle of wills,” he assures me, tapping the notebook. “Let’s get this over with and go get naked again.”
I inhale a sharp breath, ready to do anything other than look at those photos, including broach the awkward subject of David. “I need to talk about something else first.”
“I’m listening.”
“David.”
“David,” he repeats, the name a blade sliding through the air. “The infamous fiancé.”
“Kayden—”
“Tell me.”
“He gave me a necklace. It was a large butterfly, and I found a handwritten note inside it.”
He goes very still, the lines of his face sharpening with his tone. “What did that note say, Ella?”
Unease flits through me. “I don’t remember. It could have been a silly love note.”
“You claim to just ‘know’ things. Is that what you think it was?”
“No. No, I do not.” He studies me with hooded eyes, his lashes hiding his gaze from my prying eyes, and I can’t take his silence. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Denial (Careless Whispers #1) Page 22